


Hope Of A Heart

by SecondFromTheRight



Series: All We Do Is Hide Away [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-23 11:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondFromTheRight/pseuds/SecondFromTheRight
Summary: Follows on fromChasing My MindWhen it happens it isn’t how he thought it would be – and Frank did think about it, often – though he probably should have realised it would happen exactly like this. It’s them. They break through every barrier to the extreme, passing through multiple levels at once. They were never casual and Frank supposes this shouldn’t have been any different.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With each part I add to this series, the more nervous I get about posting in case it ruins it. Especially this one though as there's a change of tone - please heed the rating change and tags on this one. It's not smut for the sake of it. I've tried to keep the story in this. But I'm sorry if it isn't what some people were looking for.
> 
> There will be another chapter to this.
> 
>  
> 
> I also really wanted to thank everyone reading and especially giving comments and kudos on this series, extra so to those new readers who read all the parts in one go. You've all been really sweet. And I apologise for the typos you will all have read. I hate reading my own stuff and there was a chapter in All We Do Is Hide Away - Chapter 2 or 3, where I barely skimmed it because it was either post it as it was or delete the whole thing. So I know there is at least one Chapter that has many mistakes in it and I'm really sorry about that. And to those who have been reading since I first posted and are still sticking with it, thank you. I appreciate the encouragement.

When it happens it isn’t how he thought it would be – and Frank did think about it, often – though he probably should have realised it would happen exactly like this. It’s them. They break through every barrier to the extreme, passing through multiple levels at once. They were never casual and Frank supposes this shouldn’t have been any different.

He’s woken by Karen having a nightmare. He’s always so aware of her, even when he sleeps, can feel her tensing and jerking in his arms, and then she whimpers his name, bringing him to full alertness and making him open his eyes.

“Karen.” He says softly as he tightens his hold on her. She immediately stills and then wakes up, quickly twisting against him to turn around. The way she looks at him scares him because _she’s_ scared. Her chest is heaving as she panics and before he can ask what she dreamt, she’s pushing at him, shoving him until he’s on his back. He goes with it, lets her maneuver him however the hell she wants. But she hasn’t said a fucking word and she starts bunching up his shirt, pushing it up his chest until she can see all of him. She throws a leg over him, straddling him as she goes about her search of seemingly checking him out. Her hands run over his chest and he’s pretty sure he gets it because he’s ran his hands over her like that too, checking she’s okay when his mind screams that she might not be. So Frank lets her do it, lets her calm herself by the only real way she can. “I’m right here.” He finally says as she places her hand over his chest and stares at it. He remembers the first time he said that to her, in a similar moment when she'd woken up with his name on that first night he stayed. It's become so much more since then. Her eyes flick up to him as he speaks and she stares at him with a look he doesn’t think he’s seen before. And before this, Frank would have sworn up and down he knew pretty much every look from her.

He's about to repeat her name when she takes a small breath, almost a gasp and then she’s lowering herself over him. He feels her hair touch him first, soft and silky like always, tickling his neck and collarbone as it drapes over him. Even in the dark he sees her eyes drift up to meet his briefly before she focuses on his mouth, inches away from her own. She still hasn’t said anything and Frank thinks she might have stolen his breath because he feels frozen, like all he is able to do is wait for her.

Her hand is still over his heart and he feels her fingertips tighten in a grip against his skin as she finally - fucking finally - presses her lips against his. As soon as she touches him he feels like his body releases itself and he quickly lifts his hand to her cheek, his fingers sliding through her hair until he’s touching her neck and he tugs her against him. He lifts his head to meet her, wanting to be active in this.

Frank feels the contact of her kiss burning through him. He knows her lips, stares at them as she speaks, as she bites at them, always at her smile, he’s touched them with his thumb and he’s felt them on his body, but this is different.

And he knew it could be this passionate - he figured it would be, but he never imagined it would be as quiet as it is. Karen has made silence something good again, but he didn't think it would be present in this. He’s aware of every part of her, her thighs against his waist, her legs lining his body, her chest pressed against his, her hand still over his heart between them that she’s using to lean her weight on. And lips moving against his and her tongue touching his. But when she shifts her hips back further down and resettles over him, he feels the heat of her more than ever. He groans into her mouth and she stills against him, breaking their kiss and pulling away to sit back. He tries to go with her, chasing her mouth, but she sits up, drags her hand further down his chest and then presses against him, putting pressure that he responds to and he stays down. She stares down at him, and he looks back up at her, waiting for her again. She seems so much calmer than him. He can hear his own heavy, quickened breaths compared to her silence. He wants to break that silence, he wants her. But he won't risk ruining this, can only follow her lead.

She shifts back even further, sliding against his dick as she does. He shudders at the impact, twitching upwards. His stomach muscles tense as she continues trailing her hand down and down, still fucking silent as she stares at him with wide pupils.

Karen shows her first hesitation, first doubt since she woke up, her eyes lowering unsurely as her hand falters just above his crotch. He doesn’t know if it’s because she’s doubting what she wants or she’s questioning what he wants, but Frank slides his hands up her thighs, this thumbs dragging her inner thighs before he smooths over the tops and around, gripping her ass and pulling her against him. This can go as far or as little as she wants, but not for a second is he going to let this go to hell because he didn’t show he wanted her enough. He won't speak in case it fucks up the moment, but he can touch her. He stops himself kissing her all the time, wanting the perfect moment for her, happy to wait for her as long as he can still be beside her. He’s not missing this moment that she chose by being a jackass. His move seems to help as she swallows, her expression confident again as her hand continues its path. She takes him out of his underwear without any tease, just takes him in her hand and he feels the air against him. He wants to look at her touching him but he can’t turn away from her eyes. She’s had him pinned the whole time with those eyes. It becomes almost impossible when she lifts herself onto her knees, shuffles forward then lowers herself onto his cock, still using her hand to guide, her fingers circling the base.

He wants to yell, roar at the feel of her taking him inside her, but she only lets out the smallest sound, a shuttered breath as she her head tilts back, her mouth falling open and dropping a hand on his stomach to steady herself, so he follows her still, clenching his jaw not to grunt. She’s painstakingly slow in taking him and he loves every fucking second of it, digging his fingers into her ass as he struggles not to fuck into her. She’s tight, almost uncomfortably so – it’s clearly been a while for her, like him, and he finds himself finding some kind of pathetic pride in it, not only because it shows he's maybe hers, but because they’re equal in this, equal as they always have been; a constant understanding between them that has given him back some kind of life.

She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt as she often does to bed and he hates that he can’t see her, can only feel the press of her underwear that she’s pushed aside. Her back arches, the smallest scrunch of her eyebrows and what feels like the clench of her fingers with the hand she still has on him. He wants to tell her they can go even slower, he wants to touch her clit and help, he wants to kiss her, he wants to roll them over and bury himself inside her heat, but she’s Karen Page and she’s determined as always; he's never known her as anything but since she approached him in that hospital room.

Frank remembers how much of a sap he is and how much he thinks of this woman on top of him as an intense desire to tell her he loves her bubbles inside him. He wants to say it now, now as he’s only half inside her, he wants to tell her he loves her and that she’s fucking amazing. Better than him, always better than him. He manages to limit himself to whimpering her name, which she reacts to by stopping her movement, staring at him with wide eyes again before she fully drops down onto his lap in one move. He groans, unable to stop his eyes from closing now as he feels her wrapped around him. And then she rocks forward, gently but deliberately and he opens his eyes again and moves his hands up, lifting her t-shirt as he delves underneath, slowly so she can stop him anyway time she wants. But she doesn’t stop him, moves her arms back instead to allow him easier access.

He has to force himself not to rut and come already. Seeking control Frank sits up, meeting her, she grips her thighs tighter against him to adjust to the change of position. Grabbing her t-shirt at the hem, he lifts it up, her arms now coming up quickly to help him and finally she’s bare in front of him, pale and freckled like he knew, looking so fucking soft. He quickly rids himself of his own shirt and then slides his hand up from her thigh, tickling her side and feeling her muscles spasm as he does. He goes higher, his thumb moving over her ribs and only skimming her breast – she whimpers here, arching further as she pushes her chest out towards him. He uses his other hand to grab at her waist, holding onto her and pulling her tighter against him as he cups her neck and makes her look at him. Her breath pants against him this close and he relishes the sound of it, proof this is happening, proof she feels it.

She sits a little taller than him so he presses against her neck with his fingers, getting her to lower her head against his so their foreheads press together as they have often done since that first time in the elevator. It’s been their version of kissing, their version of contact where their bodies meet together and they breathe into each other.

She stills her movement with a small sigh as their heads touch, only briefly tilting her hips as she stays seated on his lap with him fully insider her. There’s a hitch in her breath and then Karen closes her eyes first, Frank looking at her lips and their naked chests before he follows and closes his eyes too and just breathes her, feeling connected to her at multiple points, feeling her in every way he can – in ways he has before and ways he only can now. He remembers when it was just them in the elevator, silent like this and the both of them letting themselves have that. He’d felt like he could stay there forever, with her, away from everybody else and the world that was outside of those elevator doors. He feels that again now, but it isn’t imagined now, it’s real. It is just them, they can have this, here. There’s no one coming for him and they don't have to hide what they are to each other. There’s sweat on their skin but neither are bleeding this time and the only thing he has to fight is mental. He’s allowed this now – they're allowed this now; he's allowed to kiss her this time. So he does, barely pulling from her to switch their connection to one of their lips instead.

She kisses him back and starts moving again, lifting herself up and down again. Frank groans into her mouth, following her, his hand on her waist tightening and helping her momentum as she rides him.

Frank isn’t going to last long, he can’t. She’s too hot, burning all the way through him. Too tight, gripping him like he’s at home inside her. They’ve been building towards this for so damn long now. He wants to extend it but he also wants to feel her come, wants to come inside her, wants to hold her afterwards – he wants it all, wants the after, so they can do it all again. So he doesn’t fight it when he feels the tightening of his balls, instead glides his hand from her neck to her side to better grip her and drops his other from her waist to between her thighs. He does have to fight the want of ripping off the underwear she still wears when his fingers move over the material. He doesn’t want anything between them, nothing getting in the way now that they’ve found this.

Karen must be as worked up as he is because he barely presses his thumb against her clit, dipping down once to gather some of her arousal, feeling himself as she takes him inside her body, before rubbing over her again, when she jerks against him, her thighs tensing and her inner walls clamping down on his dick. He grunts, everything pressing against him so much he barely feels the shiver run through her as he comes inside her.

She pulls away from him first, seeming to avoid his eyes as her chest still heaves. He goes with her, kissing along her jawline as he tries to manage his own breathing. When Karen hides her face in his neck, his beard rubbing against her cheek, he remembers she still hasn’t said a goddamn word to him since she woke up panicked and straddled him.

She collapses against him, shaking. Frank wraps his arms around her and lies back, lowering them back to the bed, never once letting go of her. She shudders an obvious sob into his neck that worries him.

“What did you dream about?” he asks her, finally breaking the silence with a dry throat. Karen shakes her head against him. He can feel tears on his skin now. He grips her by the shoulder with one hand, the other travelling up her neck to cup her jaw as he pulls her back so he can see her. “Karen, talk to me.”

“I…I dreamt that…that it was you who had…died, instead of Matt.” Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. Maybe he should have. He knows she sometimes dreams about Matt, and it was obvious she had dreamt that something had happened to Frank by the way she searched his body for injuries. But he’s fucking speechless. So long waiting and the name ‘Matt Murdock’ on her lips while he’s still inside her isn’t what he imagined. And for the first time, Frank feels her total unawareness of where his head’s at – and his own obliviousness of her own thoughts. He’s never felt so distant from her and something in his chest starts to tighten and crumble at the thought of it. Not like this, he’s fucking inside her – it can’t go like this. He has no idea what the fuck to say, but he doesn’t have to figure it out because she talks again.

“Do you know that you died?” Again she’s stunned him. For a second he thinks of dying after his fight with Agent Orange in the bunker, but she can’t know that, can she? “When your family... You died too, Frank. Your heart – it stopped when you were in hospital. And with the DNR -“ she takes in a shaky breath as she sits up again, her hand going straight to his chest. “I tracked down your nurse, when you first – when we first,” she swallows as she stares at his torso she can’t seem to keep her hand from. “He told me… Frank, your heart started back by itself. He said you woke up, asked him to take you home – that’s how I found your home. Do you remember that?” she asks tearfully as she finally looks at him again.

He shakes his head at her, a brief movement against the pillow as he stares up at her.

He doesn’t remember it. He’s shocked that he chose to come back not once, but twice. He wonders if it was different than the bunker. Surely he came back then only to track down every piece of shit that had anything to do with his family’s deaths. There’s no way he’s gone through everything he has since then only to learn a lesson, to make a choice he’d unknowingly made months ago, is there?

“Your heart.” She repeats with a silent sob, making him look up at her again. Her blonde hair looks its usual softness, messy from him touching it and curling in places from sweat. There’s tears spilling from her eyes. She’s still naked on top of him, the cream-colour of her skin glowing in the darkness. And still he feels the heat of her. She’s like a fucking Angel – fallen and unbound and lost, but still with her innate strength, honestly and compassion; the only interpretation of an Angel Frank will accept from now on. And she’s worried about his heart. Whatever distance that spiked through him is gone. All he feels is the grounding weight of her hand on his chest now. She knew his heart had stopped and restarted when he didn’t. Of course she did; she's Karen, it’s what she’s always done.

She’s clearly terrified of losing him, that’s what this is about for the most part. And that he can focus on, that he can try to fix because he gets it – he worries the same about her.

“I’m right here,” He tries, both for what it means by the words and what it’s become unspoken, under the words. _I love you. I’m right here, loving you._ “Karen, look at me. I’m right here, you hear me?” When she still doesn’t say anything he grips her tightly again and then rolls them till he’s on top, a squeak coming from her. “Karen,” he breathes as he pushes his hips against her. He isn’t hard yet but he’s still inside, and she can still feel him. She tips her head back into the pillow, her walls tightening against him, making him stiffen in response. “Say it,” Her eyes flutter as she looks at him. “Say it, Karen.

“You’re here, you’re here.” She breathes, different than the control she had earlier. She’s softer now, freer. She’s blowing his mind again already.

He still wants to tell her he loves her.

Then she hikes her legs high on his hips, opening herself to him and he’s gone again - and fully hard again. It’s easier this time but she’s still intensely tight, and hot. His previous release adds to the slide; it's messy and Frank thinks it seems so right. They’ve always been messy, raw and a little brutal - the situations they've experienced together if not their actions to each other - and it’s always pushed them further together.

She wraps both her arms around him, pulling him to her with some desperation and he realises how much he missed the action before, how much he wanted it. Frank grips her leg and she slides her fingers into his hair in response, tugging him towards her. She chants his name against his mouth as he fucks her.

Frank feels his world right again in a way he thinks once again might be twisted, but it’s made for him – and it’s with her. There’s a surety again, a confidence; he's supposed to be here. Once, twice, three times, it doesn’t fucking matter. He will choose to be here, broken or not. He will be wanted here, broken or not. He will be understood here, broken or not. He will be home here, broken or not.

“You’re here," She whispers, soft but steady. "Frank.” she pants before she lifts her head and captures his lips with her own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support of this Series. Still getting more and more nervous as I post new parts of it! I hope you all like this chapter.

It’s quiet again and again, Frank finds he doesn’t mind. It’s gotten so much easier to find something peace in the silence, something good again. And if it gets too much, if he does start to feel like the silence becomes so loud he’s almost in a bubble, the walls closing in and setting him on edge, he concentrates on Karen's breathing. He finds it in the quiet and zeroes in on it. He can hear her breathing now. He knows she’s still awake because her hand is moving on his chest as she lies tucked against him. Her fingers are tracing back and forth over his heart. She’s done this before - it's become a predictable habit he's come to rely on - but he gets it now, for sure, knows what's running through her mind. It's her own self-assurance, her own sating. Frank places his hand loosely over hers, trying to reassure her, to be with her. It’s still the middle of the night, just after 4AM if he’s guessing. He’s enjoying the feel of her naked against him. She’s so warm. But he wants something else.

“Shower.” He suggests against her hair.

“Hmm, sleep.” She argues.

“I think about having you in the shower most days,” He reveals, feeling confident from their night to do so. She stills her movement and leans back to look up at him. “What?”

“You…never said anything.” She says.

“You seriously gonna tell me you had no idea that I wanted you?” he asks. There’s no way. There’s no fucking way she can’t know. She’s been as involved in building this up as much as he has.

“I thought you weren’t ready.” She explains quietly, blinking up at him.

“I’ve been ready since I stayed, Karen.” He says honestly. It’s simplified, maybe, but it’s still true. He'd made that choice because he was ready to, and he ' committed to it. Whatever she did or didn’t want in their relationship from that moment, he'd been ready to give it to her. She swallows and she continues staring at him. Her fingers start moving again, displaying her mood before her thinking shows on her face.

“Most days, huh?” she teases with a small smile.

“Oh yeah,” he confirms. “You never close the door damn open and your shower curtain doesn’t hide shit.” He feels her giggle, her shoulders shaking against him.

“Sorry.” she says through a sweet smile.

“You can make it up to me by showering with me.” He compromises.

 

Frank praises himself on not ripping her panties off earlier as he stands in front of her and realises he gets to take them off her now. It’s bright in the bathroom compared to the bedroom. Karen huddles into herself, covering her breasts with her arms. He kisses her, to soothe her, and because he wants to, because he can now, without wondering if it’s perfect enough for her, if it’s what she actually wants, if it will ruin or risk what they have.

She moans into his mouth, sighing as his tongue touches hers. He gets what he was hoping for when her arms drop away from hiding herself, her hand diving into his hair at the base of his skull instead as their bodies touch. The warmth of her is even more obvious now, against the cold tile of the bathroom and Frank pulls her tighter, sharing the heat, before pulling her away to put the water on.

Lowering himself down on the fluffy mat, he kneels in front of her and blatantly checks her out. He can see the blush on her cheeks as she swallows and looks down at him, but she isn't trying to hide anymore and Frank enjoys the win. Trailing his fingertips around her the waistband of her underwear, her stomach tenses under his touch. He drags her panties down her legs slowly, revealing her fully to him. He lets her step out of them, smirking as she balances herself with a hand on his head. He thinks about her hands in his hair, pushing him between her thighs, demanding he give her what she wants.

He stares at the hair between her legs, darker, redder than her blonde and then drags his fingers through, watching her body react as he gets closer to her, her breathing pick up. She spreads her legs for him when he touches her slit, widens them more as he works down, feeling the wetness of her – of them. His cum is still on her, inside her.

“We should uh, probably start using condoms. Do you need –“

“It’s fine.” She says, making Frank look up at her silently. He feels like the breath has been taken from him as he stares at her. How is he supposed to tell her he doesn’t want more kids? What if she wants them? He doesn’t even know if she does. Isn’t that what most people want? She’s not most people but she is so damn loving, tries so hard to live life - wouldn’t that include kids, a typical family, husband, a dog ? “I’m already on the pill.” she adds with a confidence he doesn't have right now, maybe reading his panic. Though now he’s left with other questions and shit he needs to figure out. Was she…was she planning or intending with someone else? Before him? Is she on it for a secondary reason? Women do that sometimes, he’s sure. And how does he not know this? He’s with her every fucking day. He’s never seen her take anything but aspirin when work is giving her more stress than usual.

“Uh.”

“I’ve been ready too, Frank.” Karen explains quietly as she looks down at him.

He tips his head forward, leaning his forehead against her hip. He closes his eyes and breathes her in. He can smell her. Smell’s in his life are so different than a year ago. Weapons, blood, sweat and coffee are still present, but coffee often comes with the smell of Karen’s place now, hyacinths. Sweat even - he’s memorised the smell of hers. Mornings and nights are filled with the shower and laundry products she likes and uses. It's what he goes to sleep to, the smell on her hair, her skin. It’s what his clothes smell like too; it’s what he replaces the smell of his own blood and sweat with after nights dealing with low-lives of the city. But this is a step further, her arousal that’s muted only by his own and he has to force himself to pull away before he starts nuzzling her like a tool. Pulls away a bit more when he realises he has a desire to push his cum further inside her with his fingers, now that he apparently can. A shiver goes through her and he doesn’t know if it’s from him or because she’s cold. He figures she’s standing naked in a damn bathroom, he should get her in the heat. He can kneel before her in the shower. Frank presses his lips against her, kissing along her hip before he stands back up.

She looks at him with wide eyes, her pupils almost black, contrasted against her hair. She gives him a smile that fuck, is happy. Joy on her face. Before he can do anything with it she turns and steps into the shower, leaving the curtain open for him. It’s pathetic but there’s pride blooming through him that she just dips straight under the stream, not even testing the temperature of the water he set, showing a trust in him. He shakes his head, muttering “asshole” at himself under his breath before he discards his own underwear and steps in after her.

He starts by kissing her shoulder, craving the familiarity of it to calm him down. But he’s kissing skin with water running over it in seconds and it’s new again, a blend that pumps his blood like he’s used to only in fights. He almost laps at the water flowing over her, drops gathering on his beard and he crowds against her, moving up her collar bone. He buries his face against her neck, resting on her shoulder.

Karen grasps at his side, clutching him and pulling in him against her until he feels the stream thundering down on his shoulder as well. And this - this is what he wanted. To stand here like this with her. Nothing calms him like this, nothing rebalances him like this. He's started to crave it like a fucking addiction. It started in that elevator and hasn't let up since. He's enabled it every chance he gets. To experience it without anything between them, their own world with heat and the water cleansing them - it takes things up another notch, one he wasn't sure could exist. He doesn't deserve it, but he's not giving it up. Can't. This is what made him realise he could maybe still live, could be part of something good again, that he wasn't totally fucked. This is what made him realise he could stop, the first suggestion of a choice, of an after. He can't let go of it.

Sometimes he still finds their equal height a novelty. He always liked wrapping Maria in his arms, blanketing her. She never lacked strength, taking on the responsibility of both of them when he couldn’t. She always welcomed him home, kept their home a home with love and wisdom, and gently challenged him. But the only times she’d physically hold him was in bed, or lying on the couch, when their difference in physicality could be countered. Frank doesn’t think he ever let himself practically fall against her. Karen’s delicate in ways too, but she stands like she is now holding him up, together. And all he has to do is just drop his head and hold her back, their bodies aligning. They end up swaying and it's equal. He doesn't have to think, doesn't have to watch his movement, doesn't have to be careful. It's complete freedom, a version of it Frank never realised he fought and killed to protect.

He liked taking care of his family. It defined him in ways, and he’d hold back for the sake of it, to protect them, to make sure they continued to smile. He didn’t want welcome homes to come with any memory of the blood of those he’d killed. He wanted to forget all of that and escape in his family. The loss of them became his war, after trying to keep the two apart for so long. With Karen, there’s some kind of balance he didn’t think could exist. She’s cleaned blood off of him, embraced him as it still marks him. She’s seen him do things he never could have let his family see, she's been in the field with him. And yet she stands with him like this, naked under the water that cleans them equally. Just like after being chased by him and he shot holes in the walls around her, her - Ben's - car, she stood and talked to him about his family while he was beaten up, restrained and in a damn hospital gown. She’d brought out the vulnerability he didn’t think he could still show, and she did it by asking his about his life, by believing he still cared about something. Part of him sometimes questions if he’s gone too much the other way; if he takes it for granted, takes liberties. This wasn’t a life he ever imagined - he doesn’t think he would have called it a life from his previous one - the boundaries are blurry for him because of it. He relies on what he feels, not knowing what else to do and because it’s brought him here, to her. He accomplished everything he wanted, killed or ruined everyone responsible, won all his fights and came out of it with a possibility for love. He doesn’t know what else to do but follow on as he has, taking guidance from Karen.

He tightens his hold on her before releasing her, stepping back to grab the shower gel, dismissing the sponge thing she likes to use in favour of his hands. She watches him, wiping the water off her face.

Something in him rebels at the idea of washing him off of her, a throbbing insecurity that asks if maybe he won’t get to be on her body that way again. He pushes it back in his mind, it becoming easier to do so with every smoothing against her skin that he does, the shower gel foaming between his hands and transferring to her. He takes his time, enjoying revealing every freckle and mole hiding under a heap of suds. She’s got a couple near her breasts that he especially likes, and that he feels some satisfaction that he knew about them before this, before seeing her naked, from when she’d change her top in front of him, or be in a towel after her own shower. He’s never been able pay them the attention he’s wanted to until now.

Karen ends up giggling and almost pushing him away when he starts to kiss those mole. He follows through, ignoring her nudging at him until he reaches her throat and up, finally kissing her mouth before placing one single kiss on the mole near her mouth.

Frank switches the shower gel for shampoo.

“What, are you going to wash my hair?” She jokes with a smile.

“You want me to?” he asks her seriously. Frank watches the display of emotion on her face. The humour drops as she assesses his offer, then her lips tighten first, before curling into an affectionate smile that shines in her eyes as much. Then one side of her mouth tugs up higher into a smirk.

“Hm, I’m not sure I quite trust you with my hair,” she says with mock-seriousness, frowning in contemplation. “My life, my food, my coffee, sure. Sometimes with my sources," she lists casually, like telling him, The Punisher, that she trusts him with so much doesn't mean anything. "But my hair? I'm not sure we’re quite at that stage yet, Frank.” She concludes with a nod, her eyes narrowing as if in real judgement.

“That right? I think this magnificence qualifies me.” He counters pointing at himself, happy when her mask instantly falls and she laughs.

“Your hipster hair?” She questions, reaching out to run her hands through it, slicking it back before she giggles again.

“Which I lather up with this very shampoo.” He reasons.

“Do you shampoo your beard?” She asks still smiling, her eyes tracing down to his beard.

“Do you hate it?” he wonders as he lets the shampoo fall back on the side of the tub.

“Your beard?” her manner changes with his serious question. “No,” she shakes her head, her wet hair sticking to her shoulders. “No, it’s… Well, you came back like that. First time I ever saw you bruise-free,” she explains, her tone more emotional than he expected. “And it’s soft,” She says as she stares at him. He watches a slight crease dip her eyebrows, thought running through her mind, her eyes glazing over like she’s in a daze. “I couldn’t find you.” She whispers, so quiet against the sound of the shower.

“Hm?”

“In my dream,” she explains, some fear in her eyes. “I couldn’t…they couldn’t find your body, like…like Matt’s.”

“Yeah well I’m not Matt Murdock.” He can’t help bite back. She shies away, obvious only because of how close they’re standing. The daze is gone.

“I…that wasn’t what I…I didn’t mean it like that.” She says apologetically, licking and biting her lip. He kind of wishes she’d pushed back against him, doesn’t like her being meek because it’s not her. She’s gentle, but she doesn’t back down, doesn’t put up with shit from him, from anyone.

“Sorry,” he can’t help replying. “I just, uh, if we could maybe not talk about Murdock while we’re naked, that’d be…you know.” He clicks his tongue, only half-joking. The subject of Red in moments like this is not a habit he wants to take hold. Twice in as many hours already has him twitching.

“Oh,” she says looking stunned, and confused. Frank finds himself comforted by how uncomfortable she looks about it too, now that she’s realised. Her brows pinch heavily and she almost screws her nose up as she looks away. “Sorry.” She adds. He should probably pay more attention how to unaware she apparently is because it’s not her. Karen Page is all about the nuances. She’s always aware, seeking the truth, the extras that others don’t notice. He’s like that too, except she often distracts him easier than most things can – easier than anything else can.

“It’s not something you need to worry about. I’m sticking around, remember?” he reaches out and tucks some of her wet hair behind her ear before tugging her to him. “Come here," he says before kissing her. She knots her hand in his hair this time, wrapping her arm around him. Frank feels satisfaction at her acting as she wants with him, with learning this new thing about her - how she kisses, how she wants to kiss him. “You that bored of me already? Mystery gone or some shit, what is it people say?” he jokes as he pulls back, smirking at her, his eyes flicking back and forth between her eyes and her lips.

“Something like that, but it doesn’t apply. Actually, I like this.” She smiles at him, full and bright again.

“Yeah?”

“Hm mm, very much.” She bites her lip, trying not to grin at him. “Isn’t it your turn anyway?” she picks up the shower gel from earlier; Frank pretty much ogles her as she reaches from it, watching her breasts as she moves. Then she’s manoeuvring him, pushing at him to turn around as she moves behind him.

He lets out a deep sigh as she blankets his back. Frank feels her run her fingers over his scars, softly circling what he's sure is the exit bullet wound scar with her index finger before she brushes her thumb over it like she’s wiping away the damage left. He doesn’t know if she thinks it’s from his time in the Marines or from being The Punisher. She’s never asked him about his scars. Frank’s pretty sure it’s because she doesn’t need to – and he doesn’t feel the need to tell her. The way they've learned each other's deepest loves and loses, joy and traumas has never been in moments like this. They’ve never needed to be naked to be naked with each other. In a hospital, strapped to a bed, in a common diner, by a river thousands of people walk past every day, in a simple service elevator - one of many in the city, no different from the others, in her apartment when they’re both just standing in front of each other is how they've learned each other's secrets. She knows who he is, knows he’s a solider, someone who has blooded the battlefield and the streets. He has little surprising incidents to confide that will newly define their relationship; she learned his scars first, not the pretty picture on the surface. It's not different for her. He learned that when he came back, wondering about Ben Urich, thinking it changed everything he thought was between them. But it didn't. It was just more of what he already knew of her. She always strokes her fingers against new scars, acknowledging them, and he never hides them from her, but they never surprises her like she's realised something new about him. Karen knows him, what the rest of the world suspects about him and what they don't.

Again Frank appreciates her height as she embraces him. This isn’t new, she’s done it a number of times and like before, she presses her lips to the top of his back and as he always does, he hangs his head for her. But the wet slip between them in new, the feel of her naked as much as him is new. And when she slides her hand around his side, down his stomach and grips him – that’s new too.

“I want inside you.” He says, turning his head so he can lean his temple against hers.

“Yes.” She whispers back at him, rubbing her nose against the side of his beard. She tightens her grip on him as he grows harder in her hand. The way she strokes him is lazy, exploratory, like they have all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it isn't obvious, the part about scars is supposed to directly contrast with Billy and Dinah.  
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are awesome things that I appreciate.
> 
> I've started writing the next part in the Series. I figure it's time Karen met the Lieberman's, yeah? :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really bad at comments here. I kinda like my fic comments just to be from readers and not from me. But if anybody wants to talk to me on tumblr, please feel free. I promise to be more responsive there.
> 
> <https://secondfromtheright.tumblr.com/>


End file.
